The Born Again Virgin
by ilovetvalot
Summary: Based on a dare from Angel N Darkness and her song fic challenge. When Hotch experiences a rather personal malfunction, hilarity ensues. This is a TWO shot. Co-auth'd w/tonnie2001969.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: Okay, readers, this is a two-shot based on yet another dare from Angel N Darkness' devious mind. The song prompt was "Like A Virgin" by Madonna. Bet ya'll couldn't figure that out, could you? Anyway, it couldn't have been completed without the patient assistance of my best friend, co-author and world's best beta, tonnie2001969. She takes raw material and turns it into something readable. Anyway, I hope ya'll enjoy this. Leave a review...they're the best thank yous in the world.**_

**The Born Again Virgin**

Bracing his hands against the porcelain pedestal sink in his half bath off the living room, Aaron Hotchner stared at his flustered reflection in the mirror. Pull it together, Hotchner. She's waiting out there. Waiting for you. Damn, he was like a virgin all over again. Felt just like prom night twenty five damn years ago. Only this time, Emily Prentiss was no novice and he didn't have the stamina of a randy teenager. Christ, why hadn't he taken Dave's sage advice after his divorce and had a one night stand… or two? It certainly would have taken the edge off this particular situation.

It's like riding a bike, Aaron. Dave's pithy words of wisdom were still ringing in his ear from earlier today. Unfortunately, what the former Lothario didn't realize was that yes, he'd been good at a lot of things in his youth. But bike riding, sadly, had never been one of those activities. No, he'd come home broken and bloody after more than one incident on his ten speed.

God, broken and bloody would so not be a good look on him tonight.

Measuring his image in the beveled mirror, he frowned. Exactly how much grey was lingering in his temples these days, he thought darkly, turning his head to look at his temple. And hell, he didn't want to think about the deepening lines bracketing his weary eyes. This was a goddamned nightmare. After almost twenty years of being married, he suddenly felt like a born again virgin. An uncertain born again virgin.

"Third date, Aaron. It's make it or break it time, my friend," Dave had warned him with a sly smile this afternoon when he'd told his best friend about this evening's plans with Emily. Well, that had enough to make any erection he might have had this evening wither and die on the vine.

He hated David Rossi.

Lifting his hand to release the knot in his tie, he shook his head at his mirrored reflection. This was insane. He knew how this was done. He had a son for God's sake, so the equipment must have worked once upon a time. He was obviously healthy. But even visions of stripping Emily's short red dress from her svelte body did nothing to raise his libido. Not even a twinge below the waist.

He really hated David Rossi.

Okay, now was not the time for thoughts about his sex-obsessed best friend. Although, he had to admit, at least these days the man confined his conquests to one woman rather than the interchangeable string of bodies he used to tangle with. Dave called it personal growth. He personally called it getting old. Either way, JJ had been good for Dave. Anyone that could curb the elder man's penchant for trouble was aces in his book. But, he thought, staring in the mirror again at his own obviously pained expression, this wasn't the time for those thoughts. He had to focus.

Sex.

Sex with Emily Prentiss.

No, wait, scratch that. Good sex...fantastic sex...EARTHSHATTERING sex with Emily Prentiss!

Staring at his non-cooperative groin, he shook his head sadly. Nope, nothing. Nada. Zilch. Flat as a pancake down there. No happy tent pitching camp in sight. Not even a twinge to signify a coming special moment. Fuck!

"Aaron?" he heard Emily's precise feminine voice call through the door. "You okay?"

Oh, hell! Silently panicking, he released the first two buttons on the column of his starched white shirt. What the hell did he say that didn't sound like he was either having a crisis of faith or conducting some perverse ritual inside the small bathroom. "I'm fine," he called back as calmly as he could, trying to insert a tone of composure in his tight voice. "I'll be out in just a minute."

Pacing the small confined bathroom, he cursed himself for not paying better attention to those 2 am infomercials on the merits of Viagra during those insomniac hazes he'd experienced.

Wait! He was only forty-two. It wasn't time for his manly parts to need pharmaceutical assistance, was it? Dave was older than he was, and that bastard had never mentioned needing the aid of a little blue pill.

Okay. Think this through, Hotchner. This was nerves. Plain and simple. Stage fright. Once he got under the bright lights...or dim recess lighting of his living room, he'd be fine. Perfectly fine. Right?

Oh, who was he kidding? He needed help! Desperate help. Preferably of the professional variety. But, again, time was of the essence and fishing his phone from his pocket, he called the one person he knew would listen. And laugh.

But first, being the friend he was, he'd listen. At least Hotch hoped he would.

Waiting until he heard the terse greeting on the other end of the line, Hotch looked frantically toward the back of the closed, locked bathroom door. "Dave? Dave, it's Aaron."

"Aaron?" Dave frowned, leaning back in his recliner as JJ walked into his study, two glasses of wine in hands. "What the hell are you calling me for this late? Aren't you on a date, man? The third date if I recall correctly," Dave teased, unable to resist pushing the normally unflappable man's buttons. "Trust me, man, you should really be doing other things right now."

"Yeah," Hotch whispered, frowning down at his phone, "Thanks for the update, you asshole! That's the problem."

"Problem? What problem?" Dave asked confused, accepting the glass of wine from JJ's fingers as she slid sensuously into his lap.

"THE problem, Dave. I can't rise to the occasion," Hotch groaned softly, staring morosely at his shoes.

"What occasion?" Dave asked, sighing in appreciation as JJ fit her head beneath his chin.

"THE occasion, Dave! What other occasion was on the table for the night, you idiot!" Hotch hissed, gripping his phone tightly in his hand. "I tried everything. Do you think she noticed?"

"That you didn't show up for the occasion?" Dave chuckled as he wondered exactly what had been going on in the Hotchner home. "I'm gonna go with probably," he drawled, dropping a hand to JJ's waist, his finger trailing underneath her prim cotton blouse.

"Get me out of this, Dave. This is all your fault anyway! You and your damned advice!" Hotch softly raged, hearing his own words echo back to him in the small room.

"Aaron, I'm pretty sure I can't do this for you. I'm fairly certain JJ would frown on it," Dave commented neutrally, glancing down at the woman he held.

"You aren't even remotely funny," Hotch retorted in disgust, rolling his eyes even though the other man was miles away. "Why in the hell did I even bother calling you?"

"You sensed I needed a laugh?" Dave offered lamely, biting his tongue to keep from doubling over with laughter.

"I hate you. You know that? I hate you," Hotch growled, mentally noting this lack of support for a future discussion.

"Did you call for advice or to vent your spleen?" Dave asked in a bored voice, his hand sliding up and down JJ's back as she shifted in his arm, sending him a questioning look. "Where are you, anyway?"

"Locked in my bathroom like a scared sixteen year old girl," Hotch replied, hanging his head again as he leaned against the wall, his shoulder pressed against a particularly large cabbage rose in the middle of a hideous wallpaper pattern.

"You're kidding, right?" Dave said, choking on his wine, moving to drop his glass on the side table before he managed to drench himself or JJ in the process.

"Tell me, Dave? Do I sound like I'm kidding?" Aaron bit out.

"Aaron, you're acting like a green-assed virgin, man," Dave said bluntly as JJ's eyes widened.

And through the phone line, Aaron heard JJ's decidedly humorous voice break into a lusty rendition of the Madonna classic. Squeezing his eyes shut, Hotch asked as calmly as he could, "Is that JJ, Dave?"

Dave's laughter was the only sound he needed to have his worst suspicions confirmed. "And now, I really, really hate you," Hotch hissed, flipping his phone closed and throwing it into the sink, the instrument clattering loudly around the concave ceramic before landing against the drain.

Okay, so now four people knew he was a failure in the manhood department. Him, his would-be lover, his best friend and his media liaison. It didn't get any worse than that.

Except...evidently it did.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Born Again Virgin**

**Chapter Two**

Jerking his head up as the bathroom door rattled, Hotch heard Emily's worried voice ask, "Aaron, do I need to call for an ambulance? Are you okay in there?"

Groaning as he squared his shoulders, Hotch pushed away from the wall and unlocked the bathroom door to a concerned Emily Prentiss.

Seeing Hotch's dark face, Emily frowned, her eyes narrowing in apprehension. "What's wrong?" she asked softly.

"It doesn't work," Hotch declared flatly, failure weighing heavily on his perfectionist tendencies.

"What doesn't work, Aaron?" Emily asked again, growing more concerned as she watched the handsome man's face unnaturally redden.

"It," Hotch growled, glaring at his groin, mentally willing the uncooperative appendage to collaborate with the plan.

Following his eyes, Emily breathed a sigh of relief as she quickly realized exactly what had put her boyfriend into such a state of consternation.

"It's Dave's fault," Hotch declared concisely, daring her, or anyone within a fifty mile radius for that matter, to find fault with his logic.

"Of course, it is," Emily nodded as if his inane statement made the most sense in the world. Somehow she had a feeling the fit of giggles that she really wanted to give in to would really not be well received at the present time. And based on Aaron Hotchner's stark face, these were dire times, indeed. At least, in his grim eyes, they were.

Gently taking him by the hand, she tugged him out of the bathroom door toward her. "Aaron," she said gently, stroking her fingers against his, "You're stressing too much about it."

"Emily, I don't think you understand. This rocket won't launch," he replied, wincing as he realized he'd just referred to his penis as a tool used for space travel. God, what had happened to the articulate, poised man he showed the world...and his girlfriend? Where had that man disappeared to? Where?

"I'm absolutely positive there's still enough fuel in your engine to achieve lift-off," Emily replied with a straight face, nodding her head supportively to reinforce her statements.

"Tank seems pretty dry to me," Hotch muttered, feeling her soft hands slip around his waist, snuggling underneath his jacket to rest against his belt.

"You worry too much," Emily replied, lifting up on her toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, taking her time, slowly drawing out that simple gesture.

"Evidently not. I thought I'd just be able to...I thought it was...Dave said it was like riding a bike," Hotch finally yelled, the irritation finding a verbal outlet. "I sucked at riding bikes!" he said, throwing his hands in the air in a rare display of frustration.

Licking her lips, Emily blinked slowly as she stared up into his dark turbulent eyes. "Okay, might I suggest that your first mistake was seeking Rossi's counsel in our sex life?"

"Noted," Hotch nodded tersely, meeting her eyes for a moment. "I think he might have broke me, Emily. The missile is a dud, sweetheart," he whispered in admitted failure, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

"The missile is fine. And I promise, we're going to find a way to send it into orbit," Emily vowed solemnly, pressing closer against him, the light from the tableside lamp illuminating every detail of his annoyed face. "I have a lot of special skills that I can employ in times like these."

"What exactly are you talking about, Emily?" Hotch asked nervously, seeing the glimmer in her bright eyes.

Sliding a hand up his solid chest, she paused over his heart. "First, you start by relaxing. Your heart is pounding, Aaron," Emily soothed, smoothing her hand in circles over his furiously beating heart.

"I'm a little stressed," Hotch admitted, his voice strained as he tried to do as she said, to just let himself enjoy the moment. But SOMETHING, which would remain nameless, was refusing to allow him to do that very thing.

"Stop analyzing," Emily ordered, sliding her hands over the lapels of his unbuttoned suit coat and tugging him toward the couch. Pushing him gently down on the cushion, she said softly, "You are officially in time out. You're going to let me take over for awhile," she said, sliding his suit coat off. Making short work of the buttons of his shirt, it, too, joined his coat on the floor. Sliding tender hands over the tense muscles of his back, she gently massaged the kinks from his neck and shoulders, Aaron's soft moans bending the air.

"This isn't the way this evening was supposed to go, you know?" he said softly as her magical fingers eased yet another knot of tension from his spine. "I'm supposed to be taking care of you."

"How about we take care of each other?" she asked moving in front of him as she shimmied out of her sleeveless red dress, the fabric slipping down her legs to land cuddled against his dark jacket.

Jaw dropping as she stood before him clad in a black lace bra and barely there panties, Hotch licked his lips as he let his eyes drink in the amazing sight before him.

"I wouldn't mind a massage, too," she purred seductively, straddling his hips as she took his hands, wrapping them firmly around her body.

Slowly sliding his hands along the plane of her delicate back, Hotch groaned as Emily moved against him, her body sliding up and down his in a way he had long forgotten existed. Feeling her soft sigh against his neck, Hotch pressed a slow kiss to the base of her throat as her hands continued moving along his neck.

"Feels good," Emily moaned as Aaron's fingers tentatively down her spine to dance along the edge of her panties.

"Oh yeah," Aaron sighed, palming her hips to move her against him again, his confidence growing as he sought to memorize every inch of this amazing woman.

Meeting her imminent lover's lips, Emily grinned. "Aaron?" she whispered against his mouth, her tongue sneaking out to sweep along his.

"Hmmm?" Hotch grunted, too caught up in the feel of her body gyrating against his to muster the strength to form actual words.

"I think your missile's more than ready to launch," she replied with a soft satisfied smile, his body pressing against hers in all the right places.

"Oh, thank you, God," Hotch groaned, lifting Emily in his arms as he headed toward the darkened bedroom.

And not only did the missile launch, but it arrived at its target with impressive speed and unerring precision.

_**Finis**_


End file.
